A Swashbuckling Tale
by TechnoRanma
Summary: A malfuction with a time machine lands modern day America back in the days of sand, sea, and... pirates? US/UK, America/Pirate!England AU
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this!

A/N: Written for a prompt on the 'Hetalia Kink Meme' (on Livejournal). Credit for the idea goes to the anonymous poster! I'm posting this publically so I feel more obligated to finish _;… Historical inaccuracies!

* * *

**A Swashbuckling Tale**

* * *

"OK! Looking good!"

"Generator is fully powered. We're a go, boys."

"Load it up!"

America grinned as he listened to the positive confirmations of his scientists that today's mission was so far going off without a hitch. The tall blond glanced up at the sun, shielding his eyes briefly from the bright glare. '_Definitely looks good!_' US turned and took long strides through the hot sand towards the huge launch pad he had built specifically for this top secret mission.

He and his select crew had chosen to fly out to one of the Virgin Islands he owned in the Caribbean for the first tests of something he liked to call _OPERATION: H.G. WELLS_.

US smiled smugly as he finally came up to the tarmac and beheld his latest technological revolutionary, _ground-breaking_ innovation.

"The Time Machine is just begging to be tested, sir." A dark-skinned technician commented with a matching grin, saluting his country.

"Consider that Time Machine _killed_, private!" USA replied confidently, stars shining and fist cocked like a true hero as he stood in front of the machine. His scientists and technicians shouted their affirmations and attended their stations on the launch pad.

USA rubbed his hands in glee as he observed the compact, polished titanium and super plastic vehicle. It was like something out of a sci-fi book and movie! '_Actually…_' the blond man idly scratched at his chin. Now that he thought about it, he guessed he remembered listening to UK tell him stories of crazy time-travelling machines a while ago.

'_Oh so THAT'S where the idea came from. Oh well!_' America shrugged and adjusted his glasses, blue eyes full of resolve. He was _totally_ going to improve on what UK had dreamed up behind those thick eyebrows.

"Time to make some history." USA kissed his dogtag for good luck and jumped into the cockpit. The dome closed with a hiss and the switch was cranked, allowing the countdown to commence.

It was a perfectly clear day, his time machine was perfect, his resolve was true – could conditions be any better?? America's chest swelled with immense self pride. Well naw of course they couldn't – HE had done it, after all.

Actually, such a perfect mission called for some celebration!

'5…4…' The computerized voice counted as the American hastily rummaged around in his jacket pocket.

"Ahhh… now that's what I'm lovin'!" USA declared, unwrapping the hamburger he had originally been planning to save for the future (when he got there).

'2…'

America took a huge bite of the sandwich, and nearly choked when a wad of his new favourite chipotle sauce fell into the control board, sending sparks everywhere.

'1…'

The beach scenery was pulled back like a wrapping paper to reveal psychedelic lights.

* * *

"YEEEARGHHHH!" USA yelled as the time machine began tumbling around like a fumbled football. America was nearly out of it when the sudden barrage just as abruptly came to a halt. The machine fell over on its side with a crash.

A few minutes later the hatch opened sluggishly and America groaned, crawling out. His hands met… sand?

"What the?" USA looked up and saw sand and turf, but no sign of his huge tarmac or military base. "Okay maybe I landed on my own private beach." USA said out loud, unnerved by how alone he was.

Strange. Just the crashing of waves, rustling palms and…

There! The nation started off towards the other end of the beach. He was sure he had heard laughing. They were celebrating without him!

"Hey~!" USA shouted with happiness, jogging over a hill and spotting the group of people in the distance. "Everyone! I'm OK, and it was a success!!"

The closer he got, the more USA got upset as he realized these people were only actors and why hadn't anyone told him about the forth _Pirates of the Caribbean_ movie?!

Suddenly, something whizzed by his cheek and America rolled, swiftly pulling his heavy duty army knife from his boot, arm rushing up to block the arriving sword strike – wait. Sword strike?

Metal clashed and USA put all his strength against holding off the large and wicked looking sword that had been coming for him.

Teeth gritting, America threw the terrorist off of him. "Just who the hell do you think you are!?"

Frowning blue eyes whirled around and met rebellious green ones framed by… thick… eyebrows?

"…UK?" USA blurted, before something bumped the back of his head hard, and everything went black.

* * *

It was hours later when something cold and wet splashed against America's face and he came to consciousness with a sputter.

'_Wha_…_water!_'

The blue-eyed man snapped his eyes open, and then blinked at the unexpected blurriness. His face felt strangely naked. '_Guess I lost my glasses._' USA thought, squinting to vainly see who had him captive.

He was on the floor, hands tied behind him with rough rope as his back met an uncomfortably hard wooden pole. The room rocked slightly and everything smelt like sea air. '_What is this, a boat?_'

He heard the creak of an old chair and the thudding of boots taking leisurely steps towards him. America tensed and grimaced as he realized he was securely bound.

A fuzzy shape appeared suddenly in front of him and he felt the familiar frames of his glasses being slipped onto his face, fingers brushing his ears.

The world swam into focus and the captured nation looked up to see an equally familiar one.

"UK." USA said, raising an eyebrow and struggling not to laugh.

The shorter man was dressed in full waistcoat and breeches, a flaring crimson velvet jacket on top of a silken white shirt. The best part was that the old fogey was staring at him so _seriously_ from under a large hat with plumes sticking from it.

America couldn't really figure this one out. Was UK having one of his costume parties again, this time role-playing or something?

That train of thought was derailed when the other man bent one knee and knelt to scrutinize the nation in front of him as if he had never seen him before. "What is this 'You-Kay' you keep uttering, fairy?"

"_Fairy?_ Hey if anyone it's you–" America stopped his protest when that damnable sword came forward from the other nation's hilt towards his neck.

"What manner of clothing is this?" Britain asked, thick eyebrows frowning. The sharp sword tip traced America's chest, a knick in the blade catching and pulling the fabric of his black army issue t-shirt.

USA's breath came faster as electric green eyes looked him up and down. The sword went lower to lift the edge of his jacket and UK came closer to his prisoner, studying his face without any recognition.

'_What..What_ _the hell!_' America was startled to find himself becoming hot at the close proximity. He sweat in uneasiness. Sure he was _fond_ of UK. He even… well… Never mind that. But he had never thought of the one who had practically sired him as… _sexy_ before.

"What are you, knave!" UK seemed to be getting impatient. "Vampire? Werewolf?"

USA nearly snorted. UK and his fantasies again. The sword traced more closely on his bare stomach and the blond man spoke up. "Wait wait wait…" America breathed raggedly and tried to bow back to escape the strangely titillating sensations. "You know I'm not any of those things!"

UK finally adopted a shrewd expression.

"You were after my booty, weren't you?"

* * *

End Part 1

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this!

A/N: Written for a prompt on the 'Hetalia Kink Meme' (on Livejournal). Credit for the idea goes to the anonymous poster! I'm posting this publically so I feel more obligated to finish _;… Historical inaccuracies!

* * *

**A Swashbuckling Tale**

* * *

"You were after my booty, weren't you?

"…Your… booty?" America coughed, face red from amusement and the unknowingly exciting torture. Just when the hell had UK decided to grow a sense of humour and sex appeal in such a short amount of time?!

"Yes my _booty_." The pirate nation stood and narrowed his green eyes. He mercifully pulled the sword away from his captive allowing the bound man to forcibly see his might. "My treasure! My fortune that _I_, the indomitable England, buried on those islands!" The red-coated man punctuated his point with a flare of his arm, regaling the incredible strong naval vessel they currently travelled in.

USA froze.

"…England?" If this really wasn't the UK he knew, then…

'_Don't tell me I went to the past!_' America broke out into a sweat and tried to think furiously.

He vaguely remembered once when he was really small, stumbling upon a collection of many paintings of England from his younger, pirating days that the other nation had promptly hidden away from him. Later when he had pestered him, UK had waved him off irritably – his afternoon tea suspiciously smelling like rum – telling him it had been a few decades of drunken stupor, a poor sense of judgement, and one extreme case of mystical involvement.

Wait, mystical? Of course, England always fell for that sort of thing. Maybe he could work with something here.

"England." US turned his face upwards to the pirate nation, relaxing in his bonds as if the façade was up. He tried not to grin when the tousled-haired man watched his reactions intently.

"You were right to suspect me. I was sent here to help you."

England reared back, thick eyebrows raised high in surprise. "_Help_ me?" A red tinge appeared on his cheeks.

"You must trust me at least a little bit." America used his most charming voice, the smile in it audible. "You didn't strip search me or anything like that." Blue eyes glanced down at his mussed clothing and back up again. He squirmed a bit in faked discomfort.

…The blush on England's face suddenly became fierce and he scoffed. "I am nothing like that arse France!" The nation snapped and then eyed America warily, cheeks still coloured. "You never answered. Help me how…?"

"That… machine, you found near me?" USA put all his willpower (which was actually quite a LOT) into keeping his expression serious. "It's my chariot and good luck charm that I came to give to you."

"……"

England was silent for a long moment, searching America's face for any sign of trickery. "…I knew it must be!" He finally exclaimed, looking incredibly smug. "That's why I had it taken with us." He gestured to the floor, and USA followed the motion, figuring his time machine was in some kind of cargo hold.

'_Yes!_' US could've kissed the man for being such a trinket hog. "So you believe me?"

England didn't reply, but seemed to lose some of his prickly-ness and came forward. "Very well then, I will release you." The mighty pirate declared, and USA grinned roguishly… a flush creeping up his neck when England leaned in close once again to whisper in his ear.

"But don't think I won't have my eye on you." Imminent danger softened England's voice into something America wholeheartedly labelled sexy.

England knelt behind him to undo the rope knots around his wrists and USA started when he noticed a heavy weight against his rib. His firearm was still in his holster! If he could just get his gun then he would have England on his knees so fast – he'd jump in the time machine and get back to the future and act like this whole incident never happened!

As soon as he was free, the future nation got to his feet, hand reaching into his jacket and whirling around.

The tip of that increasingly disturbing blade was levelled at him _again_, and USA paused in extracting his gun.

"Just a precaution." England smiled, no – more like smirked! – at his future counterpart, in a good-natured way. "You never did say. What is your name?"

USA lowered his eyebrows and grinned, opening his mouth to say 'America', like how the UK he knew had always called him, but stopped, changing his mind. A genuine smile graced his lips. "…You can call me United."

"United." England tasted the name. "You-"

BOOOOOM! The world suddenly exploded with sound and every object seemed knocked on its axis. The two nations went flying off their feet, landing on the wooden floorboards.

"Oof!" America grunted as the shorter man fell heavily on top of him, sword skittering away halfway across the room.

"Sir!" A heavily accented voice shouted, and one of England's pirates threw open the door of the cabin.

Another deafening shudder rocked the ship and US felt England's hands grip his thin shirt, knees squeezing against his thighs for balance as he sat up.

"Sir?" The pirate called from the door jam.

"WELL! WHAT! What the bloody hell is it!?" England yelled, trying to regain his bearings from where he straddled the taller man. America gazed up woozily at the frazzled pirate.

"It's Spain! Spain is attacking us!" The scruffy, bearded man howled, disappearing from the doorway as more voices called for him from the deck.

"Spain!" Green eyes smouldered. "All right United! Show me how lucky you are!"

* * *

"DAMN!" USA cursed.

He was not lucky. Not lucky at ALL.

Somehow instead of basking in the glory of travelling to the distant future, he had stupidly ended up back in the past, embroiled in a naval battle of the dinkiest kind between England and Spain!

Cannons and muskets. America could nearly groan. He i_knew_/i he should have installed the missiles and ammunition into the prototype time machine.

As it was, the machine was somewhere below deck and he had immediately been inveigled into manning the sail lines and helping to steer the wounded vessel as Britain shouted out orders to fire at the tomato bastard. US pulled out his gun and shot too when he noticed debris flying too close to the man in red.

He put all his strength into holding a damaged rope taunt as the ship pushed swiftly through the churning waters.

"HAH! Those who dare to steal from me shall have no mercy!" That familiar voice laughed.

America looked over his shoulder from his station, and watched the other man he had known all his life throw his head back in the wind, feathers ruffling messily as the sea sprayed its anger over the rail.

USA swallowed hard.

_This _was England before America?

The heavily battered Spanish ship was forced to dock onto the beach of a populated isle and England called for a strategic retreat, commanding the vessel to stay hidden in a neighbouring islet. Neither ship could afford to keep fighting as nightfall descending over the Caribbean.

As the pirate ship was anchored out of sight of other possible passing crafts, USA wiped sweat away from his forehead and frowned in exasperation at having been put to work under the other nation, not getting a chance to make his getaway.

"She's lost a lot of stability sir." One of the pirates informed.

"Hm." England replied proudly yet grimly from his place on the deck.

America rolled his eyes. He couldn't figure out how the shorter man managed to find something to stand on and seem like he was cut from a painting. "And the hull?" He spoke up.

England looked at him from the corner of his eye. "The object is safe, though we will need repairs immediately."

"Well, until then, let's eat!" United grinned confidently.

* * *

End Part 2

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this!

A/N: Written for a prompt on the 'Hetalia Kink Meme' (on Livejournal). Credit for the idea goes to the anonymous poster! I'm posting this publically so I feel more obligated to finish _;… Historical inaccuracies!

* * *

**A Swashbuckling Tale**

* * *

The quickly erected spit on the beach crackled merrily as they cooked a dinner, repairs being done by the crewmen in shifts. The firelight cast a glow in the otherwise dark beach and America watched the other nation with interest.

"It's done! Here is yours, United." England handed him a burnt haunch of meat.

"Oh uh…Thanks!" USA bit into it and tried to smile. It seemed England's cooking had been worse before he had known him. What he wouldn't give for a juicy hamburger right about now…

'_Stop that! The hamburger is what got you into this mess in the first place!!_' America rarely told himself off, but if there was anything this situation could be called it was RARE!

His stomach grumbled all over again, but at England's suspicious look he covered it up by eating the haunch with more fervour.

The pirate nation seemed satisfied by that, relaxing and pulling out some maps and parchment to scratch plans for _something_ or other on.

'_I guess this is kind of peaceful._' America thought as he finished up his food and lay back on the ground.

A few moments later the blond man rolled around, simultaneously managing to feel sticky AND itchy from all the sand. '_This crap is everywhere!_' America thought, unable to fight the urge to sit up and pull off one solid boot, pouring the grainy stuff out from inside.

No wonder his UK always got so miserable and unbearable like he had sand in his pants. The man probably still did to this day!!

"THAT'S it. I can't take it anymore." America muttered, pulling off his other boot and setting the pair aside a boulder.

England glanced up briefly, but otherwise ignored his newly acquired companion, thick eyebrows furrowed intensely as he scribbled on his parchments. '_That's right. We're close…_' The tousle-haired man scrutinized his map.

Something heavy landed in the sand near him, causing the man to start slightly and spy that it was only the odd jacket of some type that United had been donning. Bloody ugly style, that. The pirate nation put it off, but when a flimsy black cloth fell just near the coat, England gradually stopped what he was doing altogether, staring as United pulled off one article of clothing after the other.

"What… in the bloody name of Davey Jones's Locker are you doing?" England cleared his throat, his cheeks strangely burning.

"Going for a bath." The spectacled man raised an eyebrow and unbuttoned the top of his pants.

Electric green eyes raked down the expanse of bare… strong… chest suddenly on display.

His gaze went lower to the loose pants and then eyes flicked back up to the other man's face, United catching him in the act. England immediately averted his gaze. "Put back your clothes!"

USA almost sniggered. "Why?"

England glared balefully, voice domineering. "You shall not bathe until I deem it necessary."

America's lips quirked upward and he rolled his blue eyes, shrugging. If the other man felt more trustful having him on a tight leash then he decided to be complacent and began putting back on his boots and clothes. Getting back to his time machine tonight and assessing its damage was kind of a no-go with all the rangy pirates around.

His own gun was pretty much useless by now because of his emptied bullets, and he wasn't really eager to be on the bad end of that damn sword anymore. He flushed slightly as he slipped his shirt back over his head. '_Well not REALLY anyway._'

"OK no bath." USA agreed cheekily, a sly smile playing on his mouth as he took long strides over to the other. "But what you're saying is," He leant over to the seated tousle-haired man's ear, his glasses glinting naughtily from the fire. "…You'd prefer me dirty."

The ear turned red and the pirate nation narrowed his eyes, pressing a gloved palm against America's broad chest to push him back a few inches.

"Don't forget you are MY plunder." England's expression was indignant, his gaze piercing. "When the time comes, I'll have you any way I want!"

The seated man gave America a final shove, and the tall blond nation felt unapologetically thrilled at having riled him up.

"You sure about that? I think maybe you'd want me to have _you_, instead."

The indomitable England blushed, refusing to hear any more.

"_That_, United, will be the day when I ally myself with the likes of France!" He scorned.

USA blinked.

"Now come over here and look at this." England snapped a piece of paper sharply.

"I have it on good knowledge that _France_," The pirate nation spat that same name like it was sour wine. "Is here." One gloved finger circled a patch of land on the neighbouring isle where Spain had docked.

"Oh yeah?" America asked idly, looming over the seated nation's shoulder, peering curiously at the rough map.

"Tomorrow we strike!"

* * *

Never ones to give up an opportunity to mess with France, the Pirates spent the rest of the night and next day preparing for a raid on the French ball set to be held in the coastal town on the populated island.

When the afternoon sun was high in the sky, the crew returned to the patched up ship to gather their gear.

As soon as America's combat boots clucked against the weathered wooden floorboards, the tall blond immediately headed towards the cargo bay to try to find his time machine. '_Finally!_ _A chance!__'_ He thought feverishly.

"Hold it." England appeared behind him, and… was that a gun pressed into his back?! "Remove those garments, United."

USA paused at the authoritative command and then turned around with a furtive smile as he looked at the shorter man. He was beginning to think he _liked_ this strangely diabolical side of the other nation. Just realizing that, America knew what a mess he was in when he found himself… undeniably attracted to _England_ of all nations.

"But you didn't want me to last night?" USA smiled, full of himself with the half-question, half-statement.

England's face flared with heat enough to match the colour of his hat and put away his flintlock gun. "Cur!" The pirate nation threw something at him and America caught it, holding it out in front of himself for a better look.

"Replace your jacket with that one. Otherwise we will be noticed in no time at all!"

USA slipped on the muted blue coat with silver trimming and looked at the opposing red of England's. He wisely kept his foot out of his mouth.

* * *

Stealthily having made it into the other island's town, they hid and surrounded the tropical mansion where France's ball was being held. England's pirates had been instructed to steal AS MUCH loot as they could possibly carry as soon as the thick eyebrowed man gave the signal.

America and England knocked out the unsuspecting guards by a back set of doors and immediately hid behind two symmetrical pillars. US peeped around to look inside the grand ballroom. It was brightly lit and crowded with more people than he had expected. '_Hey, not bad!_' The blue eyed man thought appreciatively, spying a string quartet of musicians in the corner playing a melody of beautiful music as the rich French men and women danced.

At the head table, a grandeur ice sculpture of a swan across a splash of frozen water stood as a centerpiece where France himself sat laughing with some of his monarchs. USA watched as a bandaged Spain entered through the main grand hallway and made his way over to take a seat there as well, being welcomed by France with a handshake.

England's face looked like he'd sucked on a lemon. '_BOTH of them!_' …A chance for double victory!

"I'll give the signal to storm this place." The pirate nation said lowly to America, reaching inside his coat for his gun.

"Hold on a second-" US replied, quickly glancing inside again. He adjusted his glasses, eyes rolling up in consideration. He really hadn't read that _far_ into H.G. Well's book to know if there was a consequence for getting involved in this kind of thing. Actually, did he even read that book at all? Now that he thought about it…

England frowned at him expectantly.

A fast tango piece of music began in the ballroom in honour of Spain being an unanticipated guest.

"Oh what the hell." America blurted out loud. HE was the one who decided how his operation went. '_And there's no time like the present!_'

England stared in confusion.

Suddenly United's larger, warm hand clasped onto his own. Before he knew it, United was at the back doors, twisting the handle and striding into the ballroom with England in tow like he owned the place.

"Hey! How's it going!" US waved and smiled at random bewildered guests as if he knew them, pulling his companion behind him into plain view. Couples were pushed happily out of America's way as they moved swiftly through the crowd onto the shiny floor.

"Y-you treasonous bastard-!" The shorter man sputtered in shock as he was drawn alongside United.

His mysterious fairy only gave a playful smile in reply and stopped, reaching out to place one hand on England's waist, the other bringing their clasped ones up beside them in classic position. The pirate nation could only put his own awkwardly free hand upon America's shoulder.

"What are you doing!" England whispered in outrage.

"Storming the place… What else?" America said voice full of humour.

As one, everyone around them started dancing and there was no choice but to follow – a blur of red and blue in a sea of creams and white dresses.

"At this rate we'll be captured!" England said quickly.

"At this rate who cares?" America spoke against the shorter nation's cheek, hiding from the frown that probably earned.

For some reason he'd expected the British man to be dragged around after him, but the shorter nation was matching the steps perfectly for speed, knowing exactly when to turn, hop, and when to switch.

It occurred to the hero that he probably shouldn't be surprised. England had been the one to teach him to dance in the first place, after all.

As they spun to the music, USA held the shorter man closer in genuine fun, a grin crossing his lips as England's arm circled his neck at the absence of space.

"_Who_," The green-eyed man breathed. "…is leading _who_ here?" England demanded, his breath hot along America's neck.

Heart beating in exhilaration, USA picked the pirate nation up and turned them around in an obnoxious show of strength, setting the startled man's feet back to the floor. Not giving him anytime to react, America started their dance again in a completely different direction, forcing a large French woman to bungle out of the way.

"I think we both know who's leading here, England." The blue-eyed man said teasingly.

Green eyes widened from under the brim of his large hat, and he nearly gasped in vertigo when the taller man had the gall to dip him low.

'_This… this ruffian!_' England breathed in quickly as the taller man trapped him, one hand a burning presence on his lower back, the other trailing up his arm to hold him still.

The indomitable England…held… like his weight was a pleasurable nothing to the larger man...

A warm palm slid inside his jacket and England's breath hitched, his fingers at United's back crumpling the fabric of his blue coat in trembling fists. He closed his eyes, thick eyebrows lowered, lips pushing out to tentatively receive United's bold kiss…

USA's hand stopped searching around when he found what he was looking for and he smirked. '_Aha! There it is!_' In one great motion America pulled England's gun out into the open, and aimed, cocking the hammer back all the way with his thumb, he pulled the trigger.

BLAM!!

Gun powder exploded and the whole room burst into a frenzy of shocked screams as America's shot blew the extravagant centerpiece at the head table into ice cubes.

The monarchs sitting there immediately began scattering like crazed chickens and Spain threw himself with a yell under the heavy furniture, by now used to being mercilessly attacked.

"Ahh!!" France stood gaping at America and England before the Spanish nation's arm reached up from his cover and grabbed the long-haired man down for safety.

The blond chuckled and grinned at the crazy chaos, forgetting where and when he was at the moment.

England, who had very nearly been dropped on his head in the commotion, stepped out of United's now slack embrace his cheeks darkened in a mixture of anger and disbelief.

"What?" United questioned with a laugh, smoking gun still cocked in his hand.

England struggled to find the words, his face going through an impressive range of emotions until it settled on shocked. "DUCK!"

"Arh!!" A burly Frenchmen was knocked backwards by one of England's pirate crew who had instantly entered through every door or window of the ballroom possibly imaginable at the gunshot signal. The two nations threw themselves in opposite directions out of the way as the comatose man crashed to the floor.

England drew his sword and flipped a nearby table for protection as the unprepared French guards started yelling curses and throwing themselves into the fray. One swipe knocked the flimsy metal lances from their grips.

America raised the old-fashioned gun shot out the massive chandelier, crystals tinkling to the ground in a shower of rainbows as the dwindling sunlight passed through them.

"ZUT ALORS!" France cried, popping up from his hiding place. "That was an antique!!"

The building became a riot of disgruntled parties as England's pirates did their duties of pillaging the pearls and jewellery of the upper-class. America ran alongside the outlaws, his boots thudding heavily through the disrupted town until they met the soft sand of the beach.

The hero looked up and noticed that Spain's battered ship had been taken over by the scurvy men, and now most-assuredly belonged to England.

USA looked to his side where the thick eyebrowed nation was panting, a self-righteous smile on his face.

"For the mighty England!" A bald and scarred pirate roared, and the others shouted in approval.

The crimson-coated man tipped his hat with his sheathed sword and turned his contented smug gaze to look at United out of the corner of his eye.

"…And for ME, too!" USA returned the same expression and aimed his firearm randomly into the air, shooting off to emphasize his importance. A nearby palm tree shook from the impact and a few coconuts hit the ground.

England scowled and grabbed the primitive gun from the other's grip.

The night came fast in the islands and the successful escape saw one old and one new pirate ship sailing into the blue.

* * *

End Part 3

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End file.
